


Anonymous: Birthday Boy

by Davechicken



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anon Promptfill, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 21:37:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1484965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has managed to escape for years, but eventually his friends won't let him get away with it any more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anonymous: Birthday Boy

**16:37**

Castiel sighed heavily, the kind of heavy that made his entire chest rise and then fall. The kind of sigh that people normally learn how to do as terrible toddlers. Castiel had never been a toddler, but he had somehow been catching up on those formative years by degrees, through careful immersion.

"Oh come on, ducky. It's only a few hours."

"I know, and that's not the point." He could pout as well. He could pout really well, because he had the right lips for it. Big and puffy when he wanted to make a point of being unhappy, like now.

"Would you care to enlighten me as to _what_ the point is, oh light of my life?"

"Being nice to me will not change things, Crowley."

"I was hardly being nice to you, Cas. That was just being me. In order to be nice, it has to be beyond the baseline for how I normally treat you, oh best beloved, my reason, my heart, my--"

Cas swatted at him. "Fine. Okay. They do realise that they can't exactly keep secrets from an angel of the--"

"--Lord, yes, we all know that you are a being of celestial intent, sent here to protect and serve and cherish... Cas, I think we all got the memo some time back."

That earned Crowley an even bigger pout. "I know what they are planning because they keep saying my name and I hear it when they do and then I check they aren't about to die and I keep finding them... _plotting things_."

"It's sweet, Cas."

"It is unnecessary."

"So are clothes."

"Clothes are part of a perfectly logical social convention and they provide a layer of protection to creatures who have strangely evolved to be--"

"Exactly. Social convention. Now will you stop complaining, and have the decency to smile?" The demon stood in close, brushing down his shirt, his coat, his tie... and then grabbing hold of his cheeks to drag them into a horrible mimicry of a smile. "Would it kill you to be happy?"

 

**17:09**

"I am sorry we are late," Cas said, when they turned up in the bunker a full nine minutes past when they had been asked to attend.

"Oh, you're fine, Cas," Sam said with a grin. "Barely late at all."

Crowley was trying very hard not to look like a demon who had just used sexual coercion on an angel to get him to shut up complaining and show for his own party. Said sexual coercion had lasted a little longer than he'd planned, because even when they tried for a quickie, it didn't mean they couldn't do it _properly_. "Moose, where is your rodent-kin?"

"Crowley. He's - uh - getting the beers. From the fridge." Sam waved at the collection of armchairs and couches which comprised the Men of Letters' refurbished rec-room. 

Castiel smiled but he was not happy. Sam was about as transparent as a piece of glass which was not particularly dirty, and Castiel was not the most perceptive of people to begin with. "Beers, again?" but he let Crowley shoo him into the couch.

"Should I give him a hand?" the King of Hell offered.

"Yeah... he might appreciate that."

"Back soon," he said, winking at Cas. Then he blew a kiss. "Toodles, my little soldier, Daddy won't be long."

Castiel smiled a smile that said 'you are in so much fucking trouble now Crowley I am going to put my hand on your head and let you flail trying to get in close enough for kisses and then we will see how long Daddy should leave his little soldier in future'. "Make sure you don't accidentally try to kill Dean again."

"That was _one_ time, and **he** was the one complaining the barbecue wouldn't light. I was merely... assisting."

Crowley went off, and Cas turned his plastic smile on Sam. "Crowley told me you asked us to come over for a 'boys' night in', is that right?"

"Yeah... we don't see enough of you guys, you know. Thought it would be nice to just... chill for a bit. Without the end of the world, you know?"

"Yes. I do."

Which was when Crowley opened up the door, and behind him was Dean pulling a little trolley. Oh god, no. On top of the trolley was a cake. A fucking cake. How many times did Castiel have to explain that cakes tasted of carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, and the lingering flickers of candle-wax? 

"Did I forget some cultural occasion?" Cas asked, trying his best to 'play along' like Crowley had insisted was for the best. God, this better not be like Thanksgiving.

"Yep. Only for about ten years or so, you dick," Dean said, sounding overly cheery. "Just because you were never born doesn't mean you shouldn't have a birthday."

"Actually, I would think the lack of my 'birth' would render a 'birthday'--"

Crowley blew a party-blower noisily across his cheek, then dropped in his lap. "Then it can be an angelversary, Cas. Come on. It's good. You get presents, you get cake, you get booze, and you get to be the most important person for a day. What's not to like?"

Castiel thought what 'not to like' was probably the paper hat that Crowley insisted on putting on his head. This was ridiculous. The elastic was created for someone several feet shorter than him, and it stung his vessel.

"Well, then. Thank you. I suppose this is a surprise party?"

"Got it in one!" Dean chirped. "Come and look at your cake. It's ginger and honey."

"Lovely," Cas said, picking the King up from his lap to place him on the couch, and walk over to examine the latest in Winchester technology.

 

**17:59**

"Okay, time for presents!" 

Castiel was on his fifth? Sixth? Who knew... beer. Presents sounded like a great idea. People should give him things if they expected him to sit with this stupid hat on his head and a button pinned to his tie which flashed and said 'Birthday Boy'. What was he, fucking three? No, wait, a three year old might prick themselves on a button. Unlike Cas, who was seriously considering jabbing it into Crowley's leg. 

First up was Sam, who handed him what was very obviously a reasonably wrapped book. Cas took it and said thank you. And then he put down his beer and peeled open the layers to see what particular book they'd got him.

Oh, it was called 'Good Omens', and it had pictures of an angel and a demon on the cover. How cute. He turned it over and read the description... yes, even the demon was called Crowley. Cas bet Sam had laughed to himself for some time when he bought it, but... it was actually pretty thoughtful. He smiled and said a gruff thanks, and then at Crowley's insistence, he let the demon paw over it. 

"Oh, good one. 'Best of Queen', yes? You have read it, haven't you, Sam?"

"I got it on Kindle to make sure it was appropriate, first."

"Well, don't spoil Sparkles."

"Yes, please, do not."

Next up was Dean, whose present was less well wrapped. When he opened it up, he realised it was a collection of things just as they fell all over his lap. Oops. With an apologetic smile, he went through the little pile. First was a pair of fuzzy... car mirror... bees? And then there was a 'Boyfriend Remote Control', and a little envelope.

"Last one's from both of us," Dean explained, as Cas opened up the little packet.

Inside were tickets to 'Wicked'. Well, he suspected this and the book were about as close to admissions of acceptance of his love for Crowley that he was going to get. Actually, it was sort of sweet. He felt a bit... moved. 

"Uhm." An elbow in the side. "Th-thank you. I... yes. It is all very kind. I am... touched."

Shockingly, Crowley resisted the urge to turn that into an innuendo, and he dropped the final bundle in his lap. Unsurprisingly, this one was perfectly neatly wrapped, with edges you could cut yourself on, and a pale blue bow finishing it off.

Cas allowed himself to smile as he tried to get past Crowley's arcane magic (otherwise known as sticky tape skills) and then pouted when he ripped the shiny paper in the process.

"It's okay, Kitten, the paper's just for show."

Well, he knew that. He unfurled it all to reveal a fluffy brown bathrobe (the same colour as his coat), and some slippers with little kitten faces on them. He tried not to smirk, but it was difficult.

"...what else do you get the angel who has everything?" Crowley asked, pecking a quick kiss to his temple. "Alright. Now we've done gifts and cake, I think it's time for alcohol. I mean, with a vengeance. Who's with me?"

 

**20:27**

"Who's dumb idea was it to play 'I have never' with the King of freaking Hell?" Dean grumbled, downing yet another tequila slammer.

"The same person who-- who thought it-- was a good idea I consume a bottle, instead of a--" hic "--shot, when thasnotfair..."

Dean turned his head towards Cas a bit too fast, then blinked at the way the world carried on rolling past. "You're drunk."

"Yeah, so are you."

"No, but you're.... **drunk**..." Dean insisted, poking a finger into the angel's chest.

Cas slid back in his seat, then kept sliding. Shit. The leather couch was slippier than he remembered, and then he was on the floor and snickering.

"You're doing better than I expected, Moose." Crowley said, moving to sit with his legs astride the giggling angel, toes stroking at his thighs.

"Dean might have the practice of alcoholism, but my liver's still functional, and my metabolism is in a better shape," Sam replied.

"Hey, who you callin' - I ain't a-- CAS!"

"Shh, Dean, it's my birthday. Crowley said you had to be nice to me, it's how he made me come."

"Well that wasn't how I made you c--"

A harsh elbow to the knee shut the demon up.

"I want more drink," Cas insisted. "And then I want to set things on fire."

"...really?" Sam squinted at him.

"Yes. Cake. I don't eat cake. I should set my bits on fire, and you can eat the rest."

"I'm guessing the pyro-- pyyrro-- **fuck** \- firelighting comes from you," Dean said, accusingly, pulling his feet away from the angel's fingers.

"Actually, he came like that. Very wicked, you know," Crowley said. "It's what I love best about him."

"Oh shut up and kiss me," Cas insisted, dropping back between his legs and turning his face up, expecting to get what he demanded. It was his bloody birthday after all.

 

**~~24:59~~ 01:59**

"You do realise that in the morning, unless you help them out, those two brothers are going to have the _worst_ hangovers in the history of alcohol consumption?" Crowley asked the angel whose head was resting on his shoulder.

"Yep."

"Are you going to help them?"

"...probably. They did get me tickets to a singy thing. I think maybe you suggested the singy thing. It sounds like a thing you like," Cas slurred.

"You will enjoy it also."

"If you're there."

"Of course I'll be there." Another kiss to the temple, and then his fingers combed the mussed up strands of hair away from his forehead.

"I think Dean wants to be sick," Cas said, trying to get up. "I should hold his hair. Is what you do? Or is that Sam. I mean the hair. Not the holding. Or the sick."

A snap of his fingers, and Crowley shook his head. "They're both fine, now. Don't worry. I was never going to let this night end in cirrhosis of the liver."

"...thanks." Cas wiggled his foot until the kitten slipper fell off. Damn. He tried to find it with his toes, but it eluded him, like it was actually a real cat. 

Crowley was trying hard not to laugh.

"Was it such a terrible birthday?"

"Needed more fire."

The King snorted. "Next time, I'll make sure there's fireworks."

Cas tried to climb up him like a tree, but mostly it was a mass of squirming angel and rucked up bathrobe (because, at some point, he'd been convinced he should remove his coat and shoes and wear his presents, and then the bees had been strung around his neck, and _then_ someone had suggested Twister and it got a bit blurry after that...) and planted a messy kiss at the side of his demon's mouth.

"Love you," he managed, but it was a bit garbled and sleepy.

"Love you too, you buffoon. Now, sleep it off. We're having bacon for breakfast."

In the distance, Dean's cheer of approval was unmistakable. 

"Alright," Cas agreed, and dropped his head back down again. "Stop breathing so much. It's distracting me from the being asleep thing."

"For the birthday boy? Anything," Crowley agreed.

Next time there was going to have to be jello shots, he decided. And strip poker.


End file.
